I Miss the House

I have been singing for 3 hours
but now the worshipping begins
because just now I've washed
or I am washing or I'm being washed
--let the blood clean
all I've been carrying around
all day--let the rain that thundered
in on top of my practiced singing
soak the altar; I'm with Baal
in my pride, but how I desire
to dance with delight around the
burning altar. I want to be holy,
so I'm going to stopy trying and
just die. That seems to be the
quickest way.
Amber and Leah sway in front of me.
Ryan sings over my head.
Micah bearcrawls to Becca's song.
I could add my harmony but that
doesn't build the Kingdom.
What builds the Kingdom is my
own death and the cessation of
scribbling in the shadows of
other worshippers.